


shivering glass boy

by sweetchems



Category: Comics Industry RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Fear Play, Femdom, Mild Blood, Multi, Riding, Threesome - F/M/Other, Vampire Sex, gerard being a sex brained wreck who will abandon his friends for a good fuck, gerard has a cloak and a lantern because idk when this is set and idc, good for him honestly, grant is kind of subby! good for them!, implications of vampire plants, implied sex to classical music, its like modern times but if ppl had vibes for the humans, pseudo historical but also not, service-y grant, suprisingly enthusiastic consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetchems/pseuds/sweetchems
Summary: The old mansion at the top of the hill outside town has been abandoned for years. He thinks he heard it burned down, swears he read about it in the news, or maybe in a book… but here it is, standing tall and perfect and pristine as the day it was built.How archaic, he thinks as he passes himself in a dirty mirror at the foot of the entryway staircase, sees the lantern in his hand and the heavy red cloak wrapped around his shoulders.The stairs are draped in red carpet that his boots slip on as he climbs them, trailing his free hand absently along the ornately carved banister.
Relationships: Grant Morrison/Kristan Morrison/Gerard Way
Comments: 16
Kudos: 15





	shivering glass boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rylescoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rylescoe/gifts).



> IM ALIVE  
> so. resident evil vampire milf huh. i wrote this in one day inspired by a tweet by nsfwahre on twitter, who i dont think is on ao3? and some beggng from ry.
> 
> i am fueled by classical and caffeine and bisexuality.

"Come on, Gerard! Someone's gotta go in, and I'm not gonna!"

"How does that make _me_ the one who's scared, if you're all pushing me to go for you?!"

" _Please_? I'll make it up to you, you just gotta do this, it won't even be scary!"

* * *

"Won't be scary…." Gerard mutters, lifting his lantern to get a better look at the elegant patterns on the wallpaper, "My _ass_ it won't be scary…." 

The old mansion at the top of the hill outside town has been abandoned for years. He thinks he heard it burned down, swears he read about it in the news, or maybe in a book… but here it is, standing tall and perfect and pristine as the day it was built. 

_How archaic_ , he thinks as he passes himself in a dirty mirror at the foot of the entryway staircase, sees the lantern in his hand and the heavy red cloak wrapped around his shoulders. 

The stairs are draped in red carpet that his boots slip on as he climbs them, trailing his free hand absently along the ornately carved banister.

At the top of the staircase, on the wall facing out to the front of the house, there's a _beautiful_ portrait, well aged oil paints framed by downright frivolous wooden carving. The portrait depicts a tall, blonde woman, with subtle lines of age on her pale face, clad in a high collared, off white blouse with ruffles all down her all but modest bust, an expensive looking fur stole, and a dark skirt. She wears a single earring, gold with a red jewel dangling down from its delicate chain. Alongside her, stands someone Gerard would dub a man, man as in mankind, not a male, had their presence not invoked some feeling of being above even that definition of the word. They're tall as well, thin but broad shouldered, with a strong brow and sharp jaw, bald and clean-shaven, and they wear an earring from the same set as the woman's, in the opposite ear. The person- _entity_ , really, they feel ghostly, the woman does too- wears a dark dress shirt and an embroidered red waistcoat, the gold chain of a watch tucked into the breast pocket. Something about the couple's deep, passionate gaze makes Gerard feel penetrated on a deep, animal level, his insides vibrating with nerves and primal, prey-like anxiety, and he straightens up as he walks by.

The house is in a surprisingly beautiful state, and he'd think no one had ever moved out, had he not known better. The candles mounted on the walls in elegant metalwork are even…

How… _creepy_. The candles are lit up on the second floor, and Gerard is filled with an eerie, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He tries desperately to recall if he ever read of anyone _actually_ moving out of this place, heart roaring sharply in his ears as he realizes he's quite likely not alone.

"H...hello….?" He calls into the warmly lit second floor hallways. "Is… anyone there….?"

He's greeted by nothing more than the soft, purring rustle of gauzy curtains rattled by the wind. 

Approaching the open window, he notices something queer. The thin, delicate red curtains are only a decorative layer, and what look like some kind of old timey _blackout curtains_ are beneath them, on every single window in the hall.

Shuddering, Gerard continues to look around the second floor. The ornately patterned, dark walls are decorated with all manner of art, some of it beautiful and other pieces… beautifully _terrifying_.

_Macabre_ , he supposes thoughtfully. 

For being such a large, _living_ house, it's goddamn cold. He draws his cloak around his shoulders more tightly as he approaches a window, glancing down at the manor's central courtyard beneath him. Everything is coated in a thick, unforgiving layer of snow, but stranger than anything else in the house, the gardens, which should be browned and dead from ice and snow…

They're _thriving_. Red and white roses and perfectly maintained hedges, flowers Gerard can't name from this distance, all living as if it were the high point of spring.

He goes positively _stiff_ when he swears he hears footsteps a hallway away, or maybe downstairs. He should go. This counts as enough exploring, right?

Making his way down the slick stairs again, Gerard hardly registers the fact that he could be alerting whatever _thing_ he just heard wandering.

When his feet hit the ground at the foot of the stairs, he hears a door creak open somewhere nearby. Turning his head frantically, heart hammering, he sees warm light spilling from a large doorway, hears soft, crackling music.

Every instinct, every horror film he's ever managed to get his hands on's logic is begging him not to go towards the light, but he stumbles, like a little fish to the bulb of the angler, eyes wide and lantern clattering in his hand.

He stumbles into the doorway, and finds a parlor bathed in the light of a fire and the crackling hum of a proper vintage phonograph, not one of those new and simplified inexpensive recreations, playing a waltz at a gentle but easily intelligible volume.

The room is all dark, warm woods and a soft, off white wallpaper patterned with warm grays, and tall, curtained windows facing toward the courtyard line one wall. High backed red velvet chairs and an elegant sofa face a fireplace with a mesmerizing portrait above it, of the same blonde woman from the second floor, though clearly painted by a different artist, the style isn't even from the same _era_ of art….

" _Oh_ , there you are," A woman's soft purr or a voice makes a scream jump almost from Gerard's throat. "Really, darling, wouldn't you say it's rude to wander around an occupied house without knocking or saying hello to the inhabitants?"

"Certainly, love," Replies a low rumble of a voice, and Gerard gasps at the sight of the sharp dressed, masculine person from the second floor portrait, rising from one of the high backed chairs. The fire makes their silhouette massive, and their body itself is nothing to scoff at, slender and broad all at once and _tall_. "Very naughty _indeed_ …. Though I don't know what else to expect from a human… do you think he might be a hunter?"

The woman giggles, sharp and piercing Gerard's very soul. "Certainly _not_ , unless hunters are seeking out unassuming pretty boys to join their ranks nowadays. And that _aside_ , haven't we run all of those horrible bastards out of town by now, pet?" She stands, her face and body matching her portrait on the mantle beautifully, and the same stole from the other portrait wrapped around her slim shoulders. 

And when she smiles, her mouth sparkles with pearly white _fangs_. 

Gerard gasps at the sight of her as she joins the other figure, forming a stunning, terrifying unit of a couple. 

"I-I-" He gasps stupidly, only able to stagger backwards, lantern slipping from his fingers with a light-snuffing clatter as he breaks into a run out of the parlor and down the hall.

He won't make it too far, he knows that, but he has to try. Fumbling around the dim hallways gets him to the doors to the center courtyard, where the moon makes the snow sparkle. It would be beautiful, and he'd stop to take it in if he didn't have a fanged murderous couple chasing him, their footsteps slow and measured out in the halls.

A light snowfall dusts the courtyard, covering the powder from last night with new, clean frost and snow as he makes his way through the mesmerizing rose garden. Half re-frozen snow cracks and crunches under his boots on the slick stone path, and he pulls the hood of his cloak up as he tries to cross the garden quicker.

When a patch of ice on the path sends him to his hands and knees, tangled in his own cloak and gasping in winded terror, he knows he's done for, and when the tall, suited figure finds him scrabbling helplessly for his life, all he can do is pull the red of his cloak around him with a whimper, as his heart takes up the pace of a particularly fragile rabbit's.

"Oh, you poor thing…." The _vampire_ , he realizes with a frail gasp, croons, voice thick with an accent that makes every _single_ part of him stiffen. They extend a strong hand, long, thick fingers adorned with rings, and he takes it in the same moth's trance that lead him to his fate in the first place, letting them pull him to his feet. They straighten his cloak, dust some of the delicate snow off his shoulders, and he trots after them, despite his heart hammering, when they pull him back to their… wife? Their mistress, their _sire_ , maybe?

The woman has returned to the parlor by the time he's been taken back, and she sits in a high backed chair, stole draped over the arm of it, her posture pin straight and her chest forward, shoulders back, trained like nobility. Her throat is framed by a golden necklace that matches her one earring, the metalwork dipping low on her chest, and she smiles like a saint when her partner leads him to a seat on a soft chaise lounge, red velvet, helping him remember how to take a seat when he feels too dizzy to remember how.

They return to their seat, letting the woman stand to inspect him. Gerard's heart flutters into a needy, excitable staccato when she lowers the hood of his cloak, brushes stray strands of hair from his eyes. 

"Now then, pretty boy… why are you here, hm?" She coos, her touch melting into a tender caress of his cheek as blood floods his face, spreading all the way out to the tips of his ears and down his neck. "Why _are_ you in our home? Do you have some sort of a deathwish, darling?"

Gerard manages an unintelligible whine, and then a stutter, something mumbled about being dared to go in, thought the place was abandoned, he's _so_ sorry, ma'am-

" _Ma'am_?" The other vampire laughs richly, "You know your place, don't you boy?"

Gerard squirms in his place, face still held in the woman's sharp, dark-nailed grasp. "Grant, pet, don't tease the poor little morsel," The woman croons, and his rational thought melts into a spike of ecstasy, some incoherent, sex-addled plea spilling from his lips. Her partner, Grant, evidently, stands from their seat, makes their way over to him, and his eyes fix, hyper-aware for a moment, on the hypnotic sway of their pocket watch chain, so mesmerizing that he doesn't feel them seat themself beside him till a hand heavy with their rings cards through his dark hair.

Gerard moans, convincing himself he's in delirium from his adrenaline spike, tries not to melt into all that lovely _touch._ He ought to be afraid, and he _is,_ but his cock still rises regardless, tenting his pants so fiercely that it _hurts_ , tearing a wonderful, terrible whimper from his lips, more emphatic consent, more _yes please I want you to touch me, I want everything from you_.

The woman kisses him when his more-than-okays slip out, and it occupies his mind so deeply that he only realizes her thumb has tucked into his mouth when she pulls away.

" _Oh_ , I forget how _warm_ humans can be, don't you, love?" She croons, her voice pure lust, oversaturated with enough dopamine inducing sweetness to blank any mind.

Gerard shudders, licking automatically at her thumb when he feels Grant's lips graze his neck, their fangs pressing against the suddenly thin, vulnerable feeling skin there when they open their mouth.

"Kristan," They breathe, " _Darling_ , may I _enjoy_ how warm he is…?" Oh _shit_ , if he lives to get out of this, Gerard will have his hand on his cock fantasizing about this for the rest of his miserable goddamn life. 

He shudders when some kind of okay is given, and fangs penetrate his neck. The blood rushes to the surface sharply, dripping out in eager spurts, so fast he grows dizzy, feverish, eyes rolling back in his head.

Kristan purrs in satisfaction, at how he responds, her free hand trailing down to his waist, where she unbuttons his pants and slowly lowers them off his hips, inching them down his thighs. His cock springs forward once freed, and she murmurs, thumbing at the swollen, thick head appreciatively.

"Mm, nothing to scoff at, darling…." She croons, voice low with lust and heavy with slow, measured breaths. Shifting as she lowers herself, she raises the skirt of her off white, elegant dress, briefly baring up to mid thigh, and a quick gather higher exposes garters holding up her stockings, but no underwear to be seen. 

Gerard sucks in a breath, from the slow drain of his blood and the sight before his eyes. Her red garters trail up bare, pale thighs, and between those thighs is a patch of tidy dark hair, barely concealing soft pink folds, and he feels so _faint_ as she sinks into his lap, all tall and stable and a _woman_. Her and Grant are nothing like people of any gender he's fooled around with before, they're well tailored down to the cell, they're experienced, and above anything else, _they're terrifying, wealthy, blood sucking monsters that could break his neck with their thumb and forefinger and bleed him into their glasses while he lies dead_.

When Kristan sinks down onto him, he scrambles to grab the folds of her dress with an overwhelmed sob, his spine thrumming with the most pure hot pleasure he's ever felt. His hips jerk up to try and push himself into her, and she puts the hand not still filling his fixated mouth on his shoulder, pushing him back down as he whines.

He feels like a limb has been removed, dizzy and blood-soaked and so painfully lost when the delicious pressure of fangs in his throat is taken away from him, but feeling lips slick with his own blood kiss his jawline makes saliva pool beneath his tongue and dribble down his chin. Grant loosens the delicate closures on his cloak, their hands brushing over his throat as they work quickly. They undo the top buttons of his shirt, fingers slipping down to brush the exposed skin, their fingertips so cold he shakes.

"More- _ha-aah_ \- _please_ , I-I… bite, a-again, please…." Gerard babbles as they let their hands wander, lips doing no more than laying sweet kisses, a gentle, teasing offset to Kristan's slow rolling, deep sinking pace on his cock.

Grazing his Adam's apple with their thumb, Grant wraps their other hand around his waist, their body a solid presence when compared to how his own feels, how barely there he is, ascending to another fucking universe as far as he can tell. "Darling, you have to take these things slowly, you can't lose too much too fast…. You're certainly not built to take it, as _much_ as I wish you were…." They purr, and his hips jerk in response. 

"I-I don't care, _ohh_ …. Please… j-just a little more, _ngh_ …!" Gerard whines, and he hardly recognizes his own voice, or the pathetic way his hands clutch the folds of Kristan's long dress where they spill over her thighs and his lap. His head tips back, slotting against Grant's shoulder as near-orgasm shudders press through him.

Kristan laughs, and he can't fathom what's so funny at first. " _Mmh_ , poor boy, you'll care when that needy thing drains you so deep you need to be turned just to stay alive, don't encourage Grant to overfill, they're… _audacious_ enough without your pleading." She sounds so sure that Gerard nods obediently, choking on his hurry to agree as she trails her thumb down his chin, hand resting over Grant's on his throat. 

Gerard stumbles on a garbled moan, thanks them both when their hands overlap on his throat, strangely tender. He's so close he can nearly _taste_ his orgasm, he bites his lip hard enough to taste a hint of copper, lashes fluttering and eyes wet.

He starts to babble, his cock heavy with its need for release, but he tries to hold back, to be good for the two vampires debasing him, turning him into some kind of pet that hardly cares how it wound up here, only that it feels tender and warm and secure now that it is.

"You can come, boy, don't hold back for her sake, she'll take what she wants regardless…." Grant purrs in his ear, and Gerard whines as he feels them rock their hips a little against the barely there curve of his hip to get off. "She's _ruthless_ , that woman… aren't you, my love?"

Kristan smiles, soft lines around her eyes more prominent. "Don't frighten him, pet," She chides, hips rolling so fiercely that she has to suck in an exerted breath. "Though, it would seem you enjoy that, don't you?"

Nodding wildly, Gerard grabs anything to tether himself to this plane of existence. "Ah- _uh_ \- apparently so, m-miss…!" He nods fervently. His orgasm builds in his spine, in the base of his cock, his skin tingling like he's always heard a "woman's" orgasm does, and he wonders if that claim was misstated, because everything feels lavished and hot and perfect as one ideal movement tips him over.

He feels like fire and lightning all in one as he comes, spilling and spilling and _spilling_ till it's so much he cries, everything blank and sparkling hazes of color and twisting hips until he feels water at his lips, and wonders if he's gone to heaven in body or mind or both.

His consciousness is returned to him when he finds himself lain on the couch he was just used on, his cloak draped over him, lips wet from delicately encouraged hydration. Gerard's eyes blow wide, black with lust when he follows soft murmurs across the room to Kristan taking what he's gathering to be her rightful position in Grant's lap in one of those high-backed chairs. 

His spent cock tries to stir as he watches her fingers dip between their legs, her other hand stroking them gracefully, as their own heavy hands take to what's beneath her skirt.

Gerard watches through the fog of sleep, eyes bleary and brain buzzing with delicate spike of activity, draws his cloak close as he can't _not_ watch.

He has a delirious, blood loss and arousal addled feeling that he isn't leaving this place for a long, long time.


End file.
